There are a few (very few) upsides to having male roommates, especially a male roommate who you have dated. They kill the big icky bugs (I was a funeral director. Most bugs don’t bother me, but roaches make me scream like a girl) They open jars. They change the light bulbs I can’t reach.
And then, there is what I call the “Daaaammmn….” factor.
I don’t have a full length mirror. When I want to see how an outfit looks, I have to open the medicine cabinet and stand on the toilet. So whenever I’m going out, if I’m not sure if I’m really looking good, I stop by Daniel’s room to see what he thinks. Now, as he’s all mono and dating Dianna (as in, the Huntress. Just, without the having hounds that rip males to shreds bit), he can no longer say how hot I look lest he give my dirty mind the wrong idea. But at some point, he has wanted to sex me, and has sexed me, so I know there’s a tiny spark there. I’ve always been able to read him like a book. And sometimes, like yesterday, that looks says ‘Daaaammmn….girl looks good!’ Seriously, that is so much better than a mirror. Because while I’m usually confident about my looks, I never particularly wanted to sleep with myself. And I needed that sort of validation yesterday, because I was getting ready to go out to dinner with Franklin, the ex of previous posts. I needed to feel that I looked good enough for him to be regretting dumping me. (So sometimes I’m petty. Sue me.) I’m pretty sure it worked. I looked awesome, and dammit, I’m an awesome girlfriend.
Really. I take good care of the men in my life. Treat ‘em like kings. I cook ‘em dinner. When they stay over, I make breakfast. I keep a clean place. I give the most amazing head you’ll ever get from a straight girl, and I like to make out with girls. I know men will be men. I will bring the beer and make the hotwings. The only thing I harp on is the whole ‘toilet seat’ thing. (No one like a wet ass at 2 am when they stumble half blind to go to the bathroom at night, ok? No one. Just put the goddamn seat and lid down. Have you ever had the misery of dropping your favourite tweezers in the toilet coz the lid was up? I have. 15$ tweezers, down the drain. Literally. I didn’t have gloves. I fucking flushed them.)
We met up at Kenka, my favourite Japanese restaurant ever. There’s a big creepy statue of a beaver standing outside. The menu has a rule about not masturbating in the restaurant. They were shut down by the board of health for a bit. But goddamn, I have never had Udon Noodle Soup or Onigiri that good, and that cheap anywhere else. When he saw me, I got the ‘Daaaammmn….’ look from him too. Sweet!
I was surprised that the dinner actually went well. I admit, I was ridiculously nervous. Franklin and I hadn’t seen each other since the post break up ritual of The Exchange of Stuff. God that sucked. We talked about my new awesome sex life, his uncle’s continuing sobriety (Which really made me happy to hear. His uncle was in a bad bad way when we ended things, and I liked him, and was honestly concerned.) His sister is still dating a young Earnest Hemingway. I was reminded that poor Franklin’s mother’s is also a Wendy, and here I am running around calling myself Wendy. Ah Lily, you created a mind fuck and didn’t even realize it. I found out the chick he started dating after me wasn’t that cool. (She hated horror movies and gore of all kind) and I also found out Franklin still talks about me whenever dead people show up on TV or in the movies.
I was really pleased about the way it went. I have a good feeling that we’ll be able to stay friends. Though we firmly set it down that we will not have sex, ever ever again. That would just be too fucking weird. It was different for me and Daniel. We were always more friends than anything, though I was in love with him at the time, I never told him. We declared our love for each other months later, in a platonic way. And sex. Should Franklin and I sleep together again…it would fuck everything up. There are, of course, various ‘precautions’ taken. One, I now own a snake, and Franklin is terrified of them. Two, I’m getting laid regularly and often by other men. I’m even debating bringing him to a party. Not one of Jefferson’s. Never. I have way too much fun there, and wouldn’t want to kill my groove by bringing my ex. But there’s another party I may go to in June, more of a one off, that he might enjoy, close to his new place. I’m still debating though…ah well, we’ll see.
After dinner, we walked, we chatted, we ate cotton candy, and I pondered buying another hat.
Thus ended awkward ex dinner.
